


Dawn Sets Early For Those Who Wait

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Alternating, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's funny, really. Writin' was just a lil hobby a' mine, never really paid it actual heed till my best darl Fef pointed it out. Had some grandiose scheme when I was younger to be somewhat of either a historian or a scientist, as a matter of fact. The first piece o' fiction I'd written was a self-insert Harry Potter fic, no fibbing."</p>
<p>EDIT: this was <i>supposed<i> to be an author of book gets seated next to someone reading their book and making entertaining faces at each scene AU, turned out to be a whole separate thing.</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**== > Eridan: Ponder over your debut in the vast world of literature.**

       Dawn Sets Early For Those Who Wait. Cliche title, you  _know_. But it seemed like a good idea at the time, cause you thought it was 'vague', 'interesting' and 'surrealistic'. It wasn't. Read the first page and it starts with rising of the sun. Smart enough readers would be able to infer the setting of the ending. And when you can read the first page of a novel and figure out details of the last, most of the time it's simply not a good book, no matter how small the detail.

      You knew this yet you did it anyways, saying to yourself, "What does it matter? The content'll darn well make up for it". You know it was stupid. You'd turn back the clock if you could to amend it, but deadlines were looming and well, you were too damn tired to give a fuck then. Sometimes you think the entire presentation of the thing turned out sloppy and generic.

       But to your credit, it turns out that that crap title was eye-catching enough. And within the first week of publishing you'd already accumulated an entire pile of letters at the corner of your bedroom, adding to the 'pile of cluttered stuff' aesthetic you'd already unintentionally had.

       The you from a couple a months ago would've taken one look at the mess, gave you a look of abhorrence and proceeded to embark on a tirade of your inadequacy as a human being. But at least you'd have a while before you really needed to do anything borderlining on important.

       Your novel's taken off, sure, but people needed time to read, ponder, discuss, all that jazz. You could lay off your responsibilities for a while, and start making up for the previous negligence on your person.

**== > Eridan: Go treat yourself.**

        It's been a few days since then and your room's well,  _mostly_  in order, you've reverted back to a normal diet (not consisting of oily takeout and shitty coffee, basically) and you're off to get a facial treatment underway. You'd pat yourself on the back for the things you've done, but with the lack of makeup on your face, you've started to feel a tad conscious of yourself, so you're not going to do that and worsen the situation.

       Maybe you should've put on at least a bit of mascara and neatened your hair more. Not that it would matter, since your face was going to be wiped down once you reach the salon. It’s a relatively short walk, so not only would it have been a waste, but also what's the worst that could happen?

       Then again, seeing how your life's consistently proven itself to just be a collection of sad tropes, this would be around the perfect time for a fan to ambush you out of nowhere. You bring one of your hands to your forehead to simultaneously massage it in frustration at your jinx and wipe away your sweat. Wow, you're really out of shape, too.

       This is such bullshit. You're supposed to feel happy and accomplished, for god's sake. The goddamn moral of your book was not to dwell on the details. And yet here you were, fussing over the scorching heat, insecure over your bared skin instead of rejoicing your accomplishments. The letters of encouragement you read through earlier seem pretty trivial now. You pull up the sleeves of your shirt and pants. Fuck, you would have used sunblock if you knew the weather would be so intolerable. The weeds that peek through the cracks of the sidewalk are drooping. You swear on your life that if you get freckles from this you would burn your curtains or something. Things get worse when your head starts throbbing and your vision begins becoming hazy. The time you spent indoors seemed to really, really take a toll on you. You’re sure that your breath gets more ragged than it’s supposed to be. It's so uncomfortable, foreign - and the world is becoming muzzy, repetitive.  _This is such bullshit_.

       When did it even become summer?

       But it's  _fine_ , you reassure yourself, just going to the gym in a few days later would help you out. Anyways, you've been on this path several times before and you know you're pretty close. Picking up your pace, you run down the concrete pavement and swerve the last turn. You're almost there, and the golden handle of the beauty salon's door is practically beckoning to you.

       You make it, and the air conditioning greets you as a sort of reward. So you're about to revel in the temperature, but then it hits you. Your name is Eridan Ampora and you have just burst into a beauty salon like a dingbat. You're panting and your hair is falling out of place, not to even mention the state of your clothing - Good job!

       Trying to redeem yourself just a little, you bend forward a bit to catch your breath, put your left hand on your knee, raise your right hand's index finger and try to explain yourself.

"Okay, so -"

       You are interrupted by an eerily cheerful laughter.

**== > Eridan: Find out who this curiously morbid girl is.**

       She doesn’t look bewildered in the least. She smiled at you, in fact, and it was a pleasant smile, but something was off. You can't detect what it was, because nothing about her was _really_ off, at least physically wise. She’s Latina, and she has the thickest locks of dark auburn hair you've ever seen. It envelops her face in long, choppy waves that only further her facial features. Bright, rubescent lips catch your attention, and so does her strong eyebrows.

       She has sharp eyes and her mascara’s on a little thick but otherwise her style is gorgeous. Her body type is roundish, and she’s thickish around the waist, bust, thighs, arms - very reminiscent of Feferi's, though you supposed less muscular. And she was wearing a pretty stylish, pale blue uniform, where the top was tucked in. How weird, the colours shouldn't match. But in her you saw reflected back at you a bright fire. Of course, you weren't checking her out, per se, but you did only snap back to attention when she began rubbing her hands.

"Hello! How may I help you?"

"Hi, I'm – er, give me a moment, I swear I’m not like this in the majority ‘a time. I'm Eridan. I'd say the usual, but I haven't seen you before 'ere."

"Oh, yes I'm new, working part time. My name is Aradia, when was the last time you were here?"

"I'm not sure, maybe, approximately-"

"Seven months? I'll get your facial ready in a moment."

       She disappears behind the counter, into the curtained set-up they have. You’re sure you haven’t seen her before. Or maybe you had, people could go through some pretty huge changes within the span of around a year. Was she Candice? That was the name of your previous – Nah, she just said she was Aradia. What the literal fuck, then? You scratch the side of your neck, discomforted. For a moment, you even guess she was an esper, or clairvoyant. Ha Ha. Scoffing yourself back to reality, you try and catch your breath. Clearly you are out of your element right now. After a while, you’ve relaxed a tad, and Aradia’s head pops out from behind the curtain, smiling cheerfully.

“Follow me, Eridan.”

**== > Eridan: Comply and be bombarded.**

“I see, so what’s your star sign?”

“Aquarius, nothin’ much to it.”

      Turns out she's morbidly curious too. Though you wouldn't blame her, considering how you basically wrecking ball'd into the establishment. Still, you find the barrage of questions you receive quintessentially unneeded. Aradia’s not a bad small-talker, honestly, but to be honest you are never in the emotional state to entertain someone else’s business for long, with the exception of Feferi, of course. (Sometimes not even her, though.) You then suppose you should call her up sometime, to catch up with her. She had been your pillar of moral support throughout the entire writing process, but it seems like she has mysteriously gone missing-in-action lately.

“Thinking about something?”

“Maybe, ‘m not obliged to enclose, though.”

“Of course not.” She applies a slathering of facial cream, you admit it’s a bit over-excessive, but the feeling is pretty nice. “Anyways I’ll leave this to dry for a while, enjoy yourself.”

       She comes back way to early, and you know this because of the soundof footsteps next to you. Curious, you open your eyes a bit. A deck of cards is in her hand.

“Care for tarot reading?”

“Didn’t know that was part ‘a the package. But either way, nah. Not really into that kind of superstitious stuff.” You were about to say how much of a bag of sacrilegious bullshit it was to science when you realise that Aradia was the one who offered it in the first place. You settle for that and let things fall into silence. For a while, at the very least. And then you hear the shuffling of cards and you guess that she’s laying the cards out.

“This one is-“

“Ain’t hearing it.”

“What a buzzkill.” She puts the cards down and starts removing the facial cream.

 “I’ve got backstory to this, trust me. When I was younger some fortune teller’d told me that I had affinity with romance that month, or some other vague nonsense. Even bought some charm that I threw away eventually. I’m being sidetracked, sorry. Anyways I confessed to this girl I liked, and woopdy-doo I got rejected and cut off for a few months.”

“Pfffft. Oooh, what a tragic story. Let me weep for you.” She’s laughing at you again.

“Ever heard of customer service? What a help to my moral.”

“You’ve already got plenty of ego, Ampora.”

       This indignant asshat – Wait, did she just? She _did_.

“You mean you knew all this while?”

“Yep! Never bought your book though.”

“So you basically prised a free interview out of me?”

“Chill, chill that was just small talk. You’re an interesting one though.”

       The mask is off by now, and she’s using a towel to dry your face off. So once she’s done, all you can respond with is a rub to your temple area.

“Ah, no touching yet! Okay, okay if you’re going to be grouchy I’ll buy your book! Heheh. It looks good, anyways.”

        Wow, you didn’t mean to guilt-trip her either, darn. And how much of pay would someone get from a part-time like this? Not to add to the fact that she’d just started out…

“No need to retort, I’ll be more than happy to buy it, really. Anyways I heard it’s a feel-good, bittersweet sort of story. That’s somewhat down my alley. Too bad the author himself seems to lack curt.”

“Thanks, the sentiment’s appreciated. Warnin’ that some parts are more despairing than you think. Eh, but yeah it’s a bittersweet coping thing all in all.”

“I think I have someone I can recommend it to, actually! He’s going through a pretty stressful ordeal.”

"Read it before you recommend it."

You leave a pretty big tip to cover for it and leave before she can say anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this prompt on tumblr, credits to tickatocka!  
> I ended up building up to it way too long and now it's turning into a multi-chap, what do you guys think? Also this was my first fic so feedback either way would be appreciated.  
> (p.s. sorry that basically nothing happened his chap lmao just wanted to set things down first)


	2. Chapter 2

**== > Sollux: Mourn over a bag of Doritos.**

      No, no need to mourn, it's still salvageable. Who cares about the five ~~minute~~  second rule anyway. Nourishment is nourishment. Scooping the rest of chips up, you save them for later. Then, you rub your eyes behind your bicoloured spectacles for the upteemth time, before resuming to type. Tap-Tap-Tap. You are currently typing at maybe, around 81 words per minute.Which isn't bad, but it's a far cry from your usual rate of 132 wpm.

Hahah, maybe you should be concentrating, instead of noticing stuff like that. Then again, what does it matter? This project was forlorn to begin with. But you down a gulp of energy drink instead of flopping onto the rather inviting carpeted floor right then and there, because  disgustingly enough, you still care.

       Rather, you need to care. The weightage of this assignment is ridiculous, and though your grade's been consistently good so far, you can't _afford_ to screw this up, both metaphorically and literally. Your rental and basic expenses are enough as it is, and if you're going to add school fees on to that, jesus. You're already cutting corners on book fees (and by that you mean finding illegal copies on the internet and printing them out) and yet you find it difficult to scrape by the amount your parents give you.

You feel worthless, because you know it isn't their fault (screw capitalism), and you love them but ugh... This scholarship's more trouble than it's worth. Can't even get a part-time job with how preoccupied you are. You have half a mind to drop out, but twice the responsibilities and conscious that prevent you from going through with it.

       Hey, but if you're already in that deep, why not sink to the bottom? Tap-Tap-Tap. You continue working on it. You work till you realise the sun's coming up, when beams of light start seeping through the blinds. It stings your eyes and you sort of detest it. In a state of torpor, you swat at them like flies, as if your hands could deter light. It only takes about a second for you to register what you've done.

      How long have you been without sleep? You wouldn't have cared if it didn't slow down your state of mind, but it does, and you need to get shit done properly. The last thing you'd want to do is overhaul an entire set of code just because your slow-witted sleepy self decided - Hurr Durr, I'm going to make this section unnecessarily complicated so I can muck up later Sollux's day with this clusterfuck! So, you drag your bony ass to the nearest horizontal soft surface you could find and knock out.

**== > Sollux: Receive unexpected emotional turmoil. **

      You wake up when the brightness becomes intolerable, and from behind your eyelids it flashes of agonising red. You think the universe is trying to make your blind or have a headache. Maybe both, knowing your luck. Light and warmth have always been too intense for you. You attempt to open up your eyes enough and steer your sore neck. Looking in the general direction of your digital alarm clock, you register that it's 3.11 p.m. You also notice that you feel like you're starting to feel like you've had a hangover, and that next to your clock your phone has started vibrating. Throb. Throb. Throb.

       Looks like your earlier predictions of an oncoming headache were right. Tentatively, you attempt to grasp for your phone, experimenting whether your right arm is functionable. Turns out it is, but holy heck does that _hurt_. Not that you weren't expecting that, considering you were hunched over your computer in basically the same position for eons... You still don't fancy feeling like death's incarnate, though. Your thoughts go back and forth. Back and forth.

       As the cold surface of metal familiarises itself with your hand, you find yourself staring at an agonisingly bright screen, with two missed calls. You don't check the caller i.d. yet but you basically know who it is. Contemplating on whether to respond and procrastinate, you bite your lower lip. What has life been for you lately? The sound of typing, Numbers, Letters, Unwelcomed Lights, Spilled Doritos, Chemical Energy Drinks. All in a rhythmic rinse-and-repeat. That's all it's been. You need a break, but even communication with your best friend seems tiring at this point. But since you're not the kind of person that can fall asleep twice, you have to.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling apocalypseArisen [AA] --

TA: you 2hould ju2t contact me by trolliian you know.  
TA: ii would probably re2pond fa2ter.  
TA: and al2o, iit would be le22 awkward compared two 2peakiing.  
AA: s0llux there y0u are 0u0  
AA: i use pesterchum by the way  
TA: troliian ii2 2o much better, ii don't under2tand why you won't ju2t convert, 2iince they're ba2iically the 2ame thiing.  
TA: and trollian ha2 more feature2  
TA: 2o why diid you call?  
AA: exactly they are the same thing s0 what d0es it matter 0^0  
AA: anyways i saw s0mething that reminded me 0f y0u its quite funny  
AA: wait give me a m0ment im g00gling it to c0nfirm its name  
TA: 2eriiou2ly? ii'm bu2y and you know that, aa.  
AA: 0f c0urse i kn0w y0u are busy  
AA: just checking up 0n y0u t0 make sure y0u arent dead  
AA: anyways apparently dewit0s is a thing n0w  
TA: and what ii2 that?  
AA: y0u type t00 fast mr capt0r  
AA: anyways its d0rit0-flav0ured m0untain dew  
TA: ii'm calliing non2en2e.  
AA: n0pe its 0ne hundred percent true 0v0  
AA: actually its a g00d thing that we are 0n pesterchum right n0w i can send y0u a link  
AA: http://www.beveragedaily.com/Manufacturers/PepsiCo-road-testing-Doritos-flavored-Mountain-Dew-soda-in-US  
TA: oh my god ii need two get twenty.  
AA: 0f c0urse y0u d0  
TA: yeah, ii mean legiitiimately that miight be my food for the next few day2 iif ii run out.  
TA: ii miight buy that.  
AA: its n0t in st0res silly  
AA: als0 thats actually quite c0ncerning that y0u w0uld c0nsider that  
AA: are y0u 0kay right n0w 0_0  
TA: iim fiine.  
AA: are y0u really  
TA: ii don't need two repeat my2elf.  
AA: n0 need t0 be a gr0uch s0llux  
TA: look ii don't need thii2 riight now, what ii need ii2 two work on my project okay?  
AA: yes y0u d0 need this mister i think y0u need t0 lighten up  
TA: ii am one cliick away from clo2iing trolliian.  
AA: d0nt be like that 0^0  
AA: but i get it i supp0se  
AA: y0u are pretty stressed up fr0m what i can tell  
AA: things will be 0kay s0llux  
TA: ...  
TA: ii don't thiink they wiill thii2 tiime, aa.  
TA: ii'm done for and ii'm 2iick and tiired of everythiing.  
TA: and the wor2t part ii2 ii don't know what ii want two do.  
TA: ii 2ure a2 heck don't want two go out2iide or anythiing riidiiculou2 liike that,  
TA: but ii feel trapped here, trapped a2 fuck, okay? no matter where ii go ii'm ju2t 2o done.  
AA: i feel y0u s0llux i really d0  
AA: but things will be 0kay  
TA: you keep telliing me that!  
TA: they aren't and they won't ever be.  
TA: my entiire liife and career and everythiing ha2 gone two 2hiit.  
AA: things  
AA: will  
AA: be  
AA: 0kay  
AA: trust me s0llux everything will be fine  
AA: keep w0rking hard 0kay  
TA: no they won't.   
TA: 2top telliing me that.  
TA: but ii wiill do my project, cau2e ii don't even have a choiice iin that.  
TA: ju2t let me get away for a whiile.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling apocalypseArisen [AA] --

       You feel like throwing your phone across the room. But ultimately you don't end up doing that, because for one - you are way too apathetic. For two - you wouldn't be able to afford a new phone. And that comes across as downright pathetic to you, always. Screw those people who constantly say, "Don't let financial status pull you down!". What are you supposed to do, suddenly stop being poor? And now you've gone and hurt your one and only confidant. You bring a hand over your cheek and scratch downwards, tearing skin. Shocked, you pull your hand back. Not because of you hurting yourself unintentionally, no. It'll heal easily. But since when did you start crying?

       It's okay, though. You're a quiet, controlled crier, so nothing to fret over. You get up, walk over to your table and press a tissue paper to your face. It doesn't take more to stop the tears after that. You go to your bathroom soon after, washing up and prepping yourself. It's supposed to feel refreshing, but you growl all the way, lamenting the wasted time. After that, you seat yourself in front of your computer and begin typing. You feel empty, but you can't help it.

       The cycle barely gets broken as you watch the moon rise again. It's a welcome environment.

**== > Sollux: Come to your senses.**

        You realise that the pace you are working at, fueled by frustration and stress, is surprisingly effective. Huh, and here you thought you'd be at a stalemate. But you aren't, and you're clearing this shit out faster than paperwork. (You might think that paperwork sucks but oh boy if you've seen coding...) You theorize that the emotions force yourself to be distracted with your project, so you can deal with them later. Anyhow, you have about two weeks left, and at this point it hits you - you will be able to finish, even if complications come up. You probably would have spare time after that, even. You might even get more than a few hours of sleep... Oh my god. Apparently, you're just that capable? You take note to put more faith in yourself in future events.

       And then you realise that what you did to Aradia had no basis at all. You didn't need that time, you didn't need to shut her out like that. Fuck. Once again, Captor has proved himself to be a grade A asshole. You stop typing for a while to crush the empty plastic bottle of Monster that was next to your computer out of spite. Taking a deep breath, you then rub your eyes and go back to work. You notice your pace has increased exponentially still. Looks like self-loathing helps too, huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, but if you're already in that deep, why not sink to the bottom? - me with erisol  
> The pesterlog was hell jesus christ... worst part is there's going to be more eventually...  
> Oh and if you were wondering, yep they'll interact next chapter! (I'm actually almost done with said chapter)
> 
> Feedback's always appreciated!  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was ridiculously long compared to the others...

**== > Eridan: Reunite with your most dear friend.**

       It only took one text from your side, one reply from her (with a p.s:  o)( my gos)( you contacted me for ONC-E 38D), and already you two were scheduled to have a date together. The platonic kind, of course. Nowadays, you would never even consider romantically dating her. You say nowadays because things weren't always like that, though. There had been a time, a young, foolish time, where you had had some sort of obsession with her. It was pretty severe, and the worst part was that back then you were ignorant. (You even bought a charm to bless your relationship, jesus.)

       You felt entitled to her, demanding her reasons of rejection, as if she was an achievement to be hung onto a wall, or a possession to own. Both of you fought a lot back then, and through the tumultuous, seemingly endless rains of it she had even abandoned and blocked you out for a time. Not that you could blame her. And yet even after those measures the prepubescent you sat there frustrated, confused, not at his own doing but of Feferi's. You still tend to be unreasonable like that sometimes today, but not as severely. But, bless her soul, she deals with it. 

       She dealt with it then, too. At one point your disjointed, amok feelings for her spewed forth in a condensed rage, and you almost raised your hand at her in a confrontation. You now know why your emotions had culminated that way, but only because of what she did in response. Sadly, she shook her head at you, took you by your forearm, and pulled you elsewhere. You had struggled against it, immensely, violently, but eventually she started weeping, her brawny hand still clad with iron grip, and you relented. (For your own good, she said, for your own good.) That was how you discovered you had Borderline Personality Disorder, and a whole lot of other shit packaged along with it. You broke down on the diagnosis. Cried, threw things, rampaged. And yet tragically at the same time you knew. That was all part of the symptoms. But the emotions you felt were real nonetheless. Raw. Hopeless.

      Yet again she stayed. By your side, sternly. She knew, so she was patient. Subtly, she administered care and love. A comforting pat on the back. A squeeze of hands showing she was there. A tender hug and a peck on the forehead. Sometimes she told you it was alright. Even when your symptoms acted up. So slowly you realised that this was going to be a part of you. And she did too. She never bothered to correct things, and neither did you, honestly, but time heals people and knowledge is power.

       So things got better. Not you, you didn't really get better - but you _handled_ things better. You wrote in your spare time to express your emotions and frustrations, with fiction being your sort of fantasies. It helped. But most of all, Feferi helped. Through thick and thin. Sometimes she steps around you like glass, but you can't blame her. Anyways, you could not tell her how much you loved her. Your feelings aren't romantic, of course, because none the tale that you've weaved with her is. But it's tender and heartfelt nonetheless.

**== > Eridan: Let your dawdling and sappy flashbacks get interrupted already.**

       Ah, there she is! You can't help but smile. Running towards you with her arms stretched, you brace yourself for the oncoming hug. When it does hit, it hits like a typhoon, and you swear she put too much manpower into that than necessary. Stumbling, you take care not to fall into the gigantic fountain behind you. The park's weather is nice and all (surprisingly), but you don't think it's time for a swim.

       Speaking of swimming, _someone's_ been doing a lot of that lately. It looks like she's got a tan. And tan lines, too, for that matter. Those outlines of goggles on her face is downright amusing. You scoff, and she picks up on it immediately. Pouting, she lets you go and lightly punches your arm. Oh my god never mind 'lightly' - that hurt. But in a good way, you suppose, because you're still smiling. She eventually breaks out into a full beam as well.

"I can't believe the first thing my QPP does is laugh at me! Ruude!"

"What in the world is that...? I swear, Fef, you give the weirdest of nicknames. Callin' me Diamond one day and Pale Pal the other. You never bother to give an explanation afterwards, either."

"Not for you to find out! Whale, how are you doing?"

"Pretty glubbin' well! The novel's been a source of joy and pride for me. How's it going over there at the U?"

"Oh my god, Eridan... Wait, before I tell you about my university let me say this - I told you so!"

"Yes, yes, you were right about me goin' into the writin' as a career choice, I suppose. Go on with your tale."

"Darn right I was! Anywave, oh boy is it hell over there. Everyone is cramming for the finals! Except the computer geeks, since miraculously their finals are worth like, nothing. This school is so weird! Though I've heard their project roetine is really hardcore."

"And you have to swim, too, huh. Must be tough, Fef."

"Sure is! This scholarship is such crap, which was why I was too occupied to talk to you... Meanwhile, you sit on your ass all day and watch money pour in!"

"Now wait a darn minute! More like you couldn't be BOTHERED. You're not worse off than me, alright? Much better, in fuckin' fact! And you know-w (fuck, you stuttered) I worked for that money, you BIG FUCKIN-"

       Feferi presses her palm over your lips and shushes you, brows furrowed. She mouths, "Don't shout." Okay, wow, indignant much? You sweep her hand off. Now she's probably internally cringing at how much of a BURDEN you must be to her. Oh look, people are staring, perfect. This is why you can't have nice things, she must be thinking. Fuck that noise. 

"Don't fuckin' DO THAT! I was bloody well speakin' and you BETTER listen!" You huff, shoulders heaving, voice brought up. And you're about to continue, but then she hugs you. You hear her sniffling. Fuck. Not again. Why do you keep doing this to her? Shit. Shit. You keep making scenes like this, over and over again.

"Come on, Eridan. Let's go get ice-cream... or so-something, alright? Can we have a nice day out?"

       And she keeps forgiving you, over and over again. You can't control it, you know, but... That doesn't stop the guilt. And the guilt doesn't stop the rage, either. But now all you can do is comply, so you do. You nod, and she leads you away, holding your hand. The mood is solemn, but that's alright, she tells you. You apologise under your breath, and you're about to start crying too, but you stop the tears from coming with your sleeve. No need to embarrass her even more. 

**== > Eridan: Choose flavour.**

"Rum an' raisin, I suppose. Single scoop, cup. How 'bout you, Fef?"

"Raspberry ripple, please! Single scoop, cone.. Thank you!"

"Child's flavour."

"Oh shush. At least I try new things. Also, you used to like Neapolitan."

"Touche." 

       The both of you aren't talking much, but when you do, it's friendly. And yet you can hear Feferi's voice crack from sadness sometimes. She's probably replaying that scene over and over again in her memory. Like a normal person would do. But you're completely over it, water under the bridge and all that, but she ain't. That's fine, though, you'll wait for her to catch up to the current atmosphere. It's alright. She'll get over her emotional theatrics eventually. After all, wasn't she the one who said that you guys were out to have a grand old time? You shove a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. She smiles at you, cone in her hand. The ice cream's pretty good. You forget to smile back.

       She suggests that the both of you walk around for a bit, and hooks her left arm under and over your right's. You're not that tall, but she's a bunch of centimeters behind and it's sort of inconvenient. You want to tell her that you're going to start hobbling, but she laughs and pulls you along before you can protest. The wind caresses the both of you today, and the sky's one of the most pleasant shades of blue. It reminds you of her, especially the clouds. Fluffy, lifeful, bustling. But eventually you refocus your vision on walking, because going around with your head in the clouds while interlocked with someone is downright idiotic. You roll your eyes and sigh, not believing how much you entertain her sometimes. She tugs again, and together you stumble forward. You guess it isn't so bad, though.

       Time passes pretty uneventfully this time round, but right now you are just plain exhausted. You're hunched over a bench while she stands in front of you. On any other day you'd reckon you were dying. But today the sores in your muscles and the sweat soaked in your scarf (Yes, you're wearing one...) don't seem to bother you as much as they should. Feferi says that it's because your internal system is subconsciously glad you burned off the ice-cream, but you think it's something else. You don't want to admit it, but you have a slight hunch it's her presence. You let a small grin form on your face as you're reminded of how much she means to you. Somehow she's managed to make going several rounds in a stupid park fun, too. 

"Thanks, Fef."

"...for what?"

"I don't know, but thank you."

"You're welcome, you conflicted nerd."

"Heh." You take several deep breaths as she waits. At this point, she checks her watch.

"Oh, glub. I have to go back to campus, it seems! Today was fun, though! I'd say it was worth the... time!" She jazz-hands at her watch.

"Seriously?"

"But I do have to leave, so catch your breath, okay?"

"Can I follow you to the university?"

"Wow, you actshoally want to hang out more? Oh my god, yesss!!"

       You blush, embarrassed by your own actions. That was probably some degree of desperate.   
       (Which is odd, your romantic feelings for her has long-since been terminated. What is this, platonic neediness?) 

**== > Eridan: Arrive at alma mater.**

      Oh, memories. You smile, sinking with nostalgia. Which is weird, because you realise that under another set of circumstances, you'd be breaking down and sobbing yourself ugly. You made such shitty decisions here, after all. But life's treated you well for once, so all you can do is regard the memories with a sense of fondness and amusement. Feferi sees the look on your face and pats you on the back, as if congratulating you or something. You raise your eyebrows in confusion, and she just shakes her head and laughs.

"Anyways, I'll be back in a jiffy, okay? I've got a small errand, so yeah, just stay put here!" 

"Wait, what kinda errand are we talkin' about here, with you abandonin' a guest's accommodation-"

      She doesn't bother with a reply. You watch her running figure and sigh. Seriously, what could be so important? You sigh, exasperated. Then she's gone. You're left there hanging, without really knowing how to handle yourself. You're unsure where to put your hands, or any of your limbs for that matter. Isn't this suspicious? Standing around, eyes reflexively darting around at people... Speaking of, you realise that you're making eye contact with a bunch of folk, and it seems like you usually aren't the one to initiate it. Oh my god, is your fly down? You check in a hurry. Thankfully, that's not the case. You're looking decently presentable too, since you had time to fix yourself up in Feferi's car on the trip. So what could it be? It became pretty disconcerting in a really quick time, because you're really uncertain why everyone's staring at you. But then someone taps your shoulder from behind, and you you turn around curiously. It's Aradia. Phew, what a sight for sore eyes. She's looking particularly chipper today and she greets you with a small wave.

"I read finish your book!"

"That's pretty fast, what did you think of it?" You chew your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Heheh, I can't give a proper critique of it. I'm not a book-reader."

"...Fair enough." You were about to be offended, but you remind yourself to have self-control.

"Of course I did enjoy it, though. I think it'll help me gather up the courage to reconcile with one of my friends!"

"The grump you mentioned last time?"

"That one exactly!" She pauses after, and her eyes snap elsewhere for a moment. The movement sends chills down your spine, weirdly enough.

"Um..."

"Did you use to come here? This university?"

"Yes... how did you know?"

"Just a rough estimate. You seem to have a bunch of repressed memories."

"Ha, what nonsense. Stop doin' that, though."

"You coming over to the saloon sone, Eridan?" This time, you're a little irked. For one, she bypassed your question. For two, she unintentionally put emphasis on the your name. More heads have turned in your direction. They're hovering in the background, like bees or something. You scorn, but draw up an amicable answer anyways.

"Perhaps. When I've got the time, that is. I'm scheduled for a signing event over a few states away." 

      She nods, and then she brings her copy of your book out of her handbag. Oh, she carries it around. Nice.

"If you will?" She hands a pen to you in addition to her copy. You notice it's hardcover. Crap, you only gave her enough for the paperback version. You don't want to point it out though, so you just nod and go along with it, signing within the cover page.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, Eridan! I've got to go, thanks for the signature."

"It's the first copy to get signed, treasure it."

"Really? I will, then!" She's off.

       And the moment she is, you're swarmed. Several people approach you at once, books in hand and questions at the ready. Oh, wow. All of a sudden you have a distinct awareness of your personal space, and lack thereof. You force a smile, and through the indistinguishable noise, that of which what you assume to be praise, you try and push yourself out of the crowd, books jutting out and hitting your face. Shit, if you wanted an amicable signing session or just a chat, would it be too difficult to be civil? You swear that if Fef was off to something trivial, you'd throw a brick at her or something. You bolt instantaneously when you get the chance, and most take the hint. But of course, with the entire crowd being teenagers to young adults and all, there's a bunch of fanatics that follow suit. Seriously? You pick up your pace again and swerve the corner. Bolting up the stairs of what you assume to be a dorm, you curse under your breath.

       You're certain that you've done enough exercise for the entire day. You are one hundred percent out of breath, and you're staggering in the open-aired hallway of one of the upper levels. You lean on the cement railing, gasping. But priorities are priorities, so you reach into your pocket for your phone- Fuck, no way. This can't actually be happening. You frantically pat yourself down. Groaning, you take off your glasses and bring your hands rub your forehead. It's probably tumbled down an entire flight of steps while you were booking it. 

"Here." Someone interrupts you as you were mourning your loss. But then you mourn no longer, for there your phone is. Screen basically cracked to fine powder, but there it is nonetheless. You mutter a disgruntled thanks and take the phone back. Then they walk a few steps away and you put your glasses back on to text Fef. You're careful not to prick yourself as you tell her about your circumstances and that you'd head home yourself once this blows over. She doesn't reply, and you sigh in exasperation. Then all of a sudden the distinct smell of smoke hits you. The wind blows it away quickly, but you have already turned to face its origin.

       You didn't get a clear view of him before, but now you have. And something surges through your veins. Adrenaline, maybe. You're not sure. Within his fingers are a lighted cigarette, and he's in the process of taking a long drag. More importantly is how he strikes you with a lot of things. Emotions, feelings, you're really uncertain. He's lean, but not skinny or anything. Long limbs, probably a bit too long. Ruffled hair, sideburns that run down the sides of his face. Mismatched glasses, red-and-blue. Simple clothing. All of a sudden you have an urge to talk to him.

"Smokin' somethin' you do often?" You raise your voice, directing it at him.

"What, want one? Also, nah. Heard it's supposed to make things feel better or thomething. It doesn't." His lisp slips up quite a bit. It's very distinct, sort of enthralling, even. Not endearing, or romantic, or cute, fuck no. But there's something about him you feel that you empathise with.

"Fuck no, why would I want that? That thing kills you and does nothin' else. Really." 

"Wonder why you're tho against them." He puffs, smoke billows.

"Older brother had one around 24/7. Died." You continue to be blunt.

"You know, if it was anything besides an Iphone I would've kept it." You note that he switches subjects. Uncomfortable with death, maybe.

"You're that kind of person, huh." 

"Don't be pretentiouth."

"That's ironic. Let me guess, Android user."

"...Yeah." He doesn't bother denying.

"That was kinda' lame of me, sorry. I mean honestly what else is there between the two."

"Heh." He snorts. It's horrifically crude, genuine. You notice that he was down earlier, now not so much so.

      The conversation stalls soon after. A few minutes pass by, and he continues smoking. You peer down to check whether the crowd has dispersed. It has. You look back up, and you notice the sun's setting.

"Oh, its gonna' be dawn soon." You comment off-handedly.

"Dusk, you mean?"

"Fuck." You literally facepalm. Oh my god. How are you going to explain this in interviews?

"Pffft." He doesn't question it or pursue the topic.

"I guess I'll have to go."

"Thure." He stubs out the cigarette, and you leave as he does. And you're not sure why, but your heart is thumping. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All those bpd feels are based on my own experiences, tbh.  
> Also, hurrah for lots of interaction!  
> Oh and the next chapter might take a while, partly because I'm not the best at Sollux's POV and I'm going to be occupied for quite a bit too.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and feedback's always appreciated! _Always._
> 
> Side note: QPP = queerplatonic pal


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